Lost in the Room of Hidden Things
by Ariel Riddle
Summary: Sixth Year AU. Hermione is top of her year but she feels decidedly lacking in the love department. Irritated she seems to be incapable of catching a certain red-haired wizard's fancy, she flees to the Room of Hidden Things. What she finds in there, will change things forever. Written for Tomione Day. Cover art by Britt52900.


**Summary: Sixth Year AU. Hermione is top of her year but she feels decidedly lacking in the love department. Irritated she seems to be incapable of catching a certain red-haired wizard's fancy, she flees to the Room of Hidden Things. What she finds in there, will change things forever. Written for Tomione Day. Rated M. 5996 words.**

 **Warnings: Manipulative Tom. Hermione is a little OC being as she never fought for the light at a young age or endured the hardships of war. Slight smut at the end. Unbeta'd as Nerys reminded me about Tomione day yesterday and I hastily hurried to write this! Thanks Nerys!**

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The castle blurred around her as Hermione rushed through the corridor, not even aware of where her feet were taking her, but rather, giving in to the voracious need to escape. It was late and the hallways were dark save for the sconces casting flickering shadows on the stone walls.

How could she have allowed Ron to vex her so? Really, she only had herself to blame. She'd made herself look like a ruddy fool. One did not simply forget one's values just to impress a boy. It was her Sixth Year, she would likely become Head Girl the next. She knew better than anyone how rowdy the parties in Gryffindor could get. Ronald and his best mate Harry wanted to mimic the glory days of Potter's uncle, Sirius Black, or so it would seem.

She knew, yet she still looked the other way. What was worse, she even participated.

"Let loose, 'Mione!" Ron had called jovially.

Harry had nodded in agreement, fixing her with his trademark smirk. "OWL's are over, even _know-it-all little prefects_ like yourself can celebrate."

She was sick of the snide remarks from her classmates. She knew she worked herself hard; harder than anyone else. She hadn't got to the top of her year by being idle. Surely after next year, the Ministry would be knocking on her door with offers, even for a Muggleborn like herself. All through school, she had a great record of never getting into trouble. Arguably, the most intriguing thing she had done was dating the Triwizard Cup winner, Cedric Diggory, back in Fourth Year. Yet she had always harbored a crush for a certain red-haired Weasley.

 _And he doesn't even notice me,_ she thought bleakly. _Not in that way at least. I let Ginny do my makeup and even cast a tightening charm on my blouse, yet he would never even think of me that way...not in the way he thinks of Lavender._

Hermione sniffed and discovered, to her horror, that there were tears welling up in her eyes. She hastened to wipe them as she kept running aimlessly. _It's the damned Firewhiskey, why did I ever convince myself I could keep up with the rest of them? I'm a bloody light weight and they can go on for days. They still are! Probably haven't even noticed I've left. Ron sure didn't seem to notice me while he was snogging Lav senseless!_

A pang of raw jealousy struck her as she remembered the way Ron had fisted his hands in Lavender's hair, pulling her onto him as she haphazardly sat on his lap, eager to comply to his demanding kiss. She had wrapped her hands around his neck and snogged him like they were the only two people in the room, unaware or uncaring of any onlookers. Hermione had felt the third shot of Firewhiskey burn down her throat as it threatened to come back up. Ginny, Harry, Neville, Seamus, _none_ of them seemed to mind as they continued in their game of _Never Have I Ever_.

Hermione couldn't even pretend to ignore it, she knew she would look the bloody fool however she responded so she instead got up quickly from the table and fled the common room. She hadn't been surprised to find that no one had followed her.

How lovely would it be to be kissed by someone like that? To be desired so? Hermione hated the direction her thoughts had wandered but she couldn't help but imagine.

 _That will never happen to me. I'm just the bossy bookworm. The wallflower. Only remembered when someone needs to borrow my notes or wants my help with an assignment, or when they just want me to do the bloody assignment, for Godric's-sake!_

Unsure of how it happened, Hermione found herself on the Seventh Floor in the Second Corridor. _The Room of Requirement_ — _yes!_ That would be the perfect place to escape from the stifling common room. _The perfect place for me to rage in peace._

She paced up and down a few times, thinking of what she needed. Soon, a door appeared out of nowhere between two pillars and Hermione hurried through the passage.

She found herself in the Room of Hidden Things and smiled despite her circumstances. She did so love the sanctuary she had accidentally discovered during her Second Year at Hogwarts. She hadn't been in here the entire year, usually she would wish for a space to study, a room opposite of the rambunctious Gryffindor Tower. She enjoyed walking through the quaint room, perusing through the odd items and trinkets that lay strewn about. Perhaps that was what she needed now. It would be therapeutic even—take her mind of things as the buzz from the Firewhiskey faded.

Comforted by this, she wiped her wet cheeks and took a calming breath as she let her eyes wander across the cluttered room. She muttered the incantation for Bluebell flames and watched as jet blue light streamed from her wand, lighting the candelabras on the walls.

There were stacks of books that reached up to the ceiling. They formed a sort of aisle and Hermione chose one to walk down first that had a silver armoured statue at the head of it. _This must be from the 17th Century,_ she thought as she admired it. Moving on she noticed a cherry brown table that had a great many artifacts scattered on it's surface. She looked appreciatively over what looked to be an archaic chess set. Next to it was a winged catapult, a silver dagger, and a fanged frisbee.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she bumped into a large gargoyle. This one didn't appear to be sentient like the one guarding Headmaster Dumbledore's office, but rather very old. She turned to go down the next aisle when she heard a rustling that sounded not dissimilar to wind.

Turning around, she noticed a large rectangular object covered by a beautiful blue and gold tapestry. Venturing forward, she came upon the tapestry and grazed her fingers over the rich fabric.

The atmosphere in the room abruptly seemed to drop by a few degrees and goose pimples graced her flesh as she was struck by the incredible notion that she wasn't alone.

"That's silly," she said aloud, shaking her head as if the foggy idea would clear by the motion. " _Of course_ I'm alone."

Perhaps it was the Firewhiskey that emboldened her so, or simply her Gryffindor courage mixed with curiosity, but she became struck with the desire to see what lay under the tapestry.

The object under the cloth was taller than she was, so she had to reach high above her head to grasp at it and unveil the object beneath.

Her breath caught in her throat once she saw the beautiful, ornate mirror that stood uncovered before her. The paneling was richly detailed and she thought it looked to be from the Victorian era.

"Beautiful," she breathed.

It wasn't until she had taken a step back to admire it further that she noticed something that had escaped her attention before—there was no reflection.

She peered into the mirror slightly frightened when she recognized the shiny glass showed only darkness, not revealing any mirror image of herself whatsoever.

Hermione fingered her ponytail in contemplation. "How odd. Perhaps it is simply old."

She looked up at the top of the mirror where for the first time, she noticed symbols etched into the thick gold paneling. She furrowed her brows in confusion when she realized she couldn't immediately recognize the ancient runes that had been magically embellished into the surface. She leaned forward to dust off some of the grime with the sleeve of her blouse.

Frowning in concentration, she focused on the ancient carvings, slightly different than the versions they had been taught in class. But Ancient Runes was her favorite subject, in the end, it was nothing she couldn't work her way through. " _Eihwaz nied rad algiz kenaz_."

 _What an odd assortment of Runes. Defence, necessity, journey, protection, eternity…_

"Protective defense born out of necessity," she cried out in triumph, happy to have solved the puzzle. "What a strange thing to etch onto a mirror. Perhaps some ancient house's motto."

Hermione turned to where she had carelessly discarded the tapestry, making to place it back over the mirror, when she heard a voice that stilled her in her movements.

"Please don't," the voice implored. "I would so love the opportunity to converse with another."

Hermione gulped, not even noticing when she dropped the tapestry.

She peered into the mirror. "Who's there? I demand you show yourself to me."

The darkness in the mirror seemed to shift and she was vaguely aware of a dark room coming into view around an equally dark form. The form approached the mirror and she gasped as she was able to make out the visage of a boy or maybe even a man.

She took a step back.

The man took the last remaining steps right up to the mirror and Hermione was struck by the face that greeted her. Before her was a gorgeous specimen of a man, a chiseled jaw came up to meet high cheekbones that might have been intimidating if not for the kind set of his full lips. Rich, dark locks fell over his forehead and a few pieces fell over impossibly dark eyes framed by impossibly long lashes. Those eyes seemed to probe right into her—straight into her soul.

Hermione forgot how to breath.

"Please don't be frightened," the man in the mirror asked in a beautifully melodious voice that seemed to sing to her rather than to speak. "I haven't had the pleasure of speaking to another human in some time and I would be remiss to let the opportunity to converse with someone as striking as you slip by."

Hermione felt a blush creep up her already flushed face from the Firewhiskey and exertion. Opting for the offense, she ignored the silly sensation and plunged right into a question. "Who are you?"

"I am Tom Riddle. And you, lovely, are the most stunning creature I've seen in a while."

"Don't try to flatter me," Hermione forced the words out calmly though her heart felt like it was fluttering. "And that isn't saying much considering the company you've been keeping. I imagine gargoyles and statues can make _any person_ come off as _stunning_."

"And clever as well. Of course you are. I mean no offense, lovely. It's not only your beauty that strikes me but the fact that you were able to interpret the inscription above the mirror. What a competent witch you must be."

He'd seen her as she'd read the inscription? The memory of how she had pressed up against the mirror to rub the dust and grime from the symbols flitted across her mind. Her blush intensified as she remembered the tightening charm Ginny had placed on her shirt and the Muggle jeans she was wearing. It didn't escape her notice that his robes, _sadly Slytherin,_ were rather archaic looking.

Despite her best efforts, Hermione could not help but preen under his praise. "Well I am the top of my class and Runes happens to be my favorite subject. I suppose it's only expected I'd be able to interpret them easily enough."

Tom gave her a dazzling smirk and Hermione wondered how she could have ever thought Harry's was devastatingly handsome—Tom's smirk turned her legs to jelly and caused her stomach to clench. She needed to sit down. What a silly little bint she was being, to let a man stuck in a mirror flatter her so.

Something he said earlier flicked across her brain. It had seemed important, what was it again? _His name, you complete ninny!_ "You said before...your name, Tom Riddle. Why does that sound familiar?"

He scrunched his eyes in thought which only had the effect of making him look even more charming. "I was Head Boy my year."

"Head Boy...yes, that's it! I've seen your trophy, you were awarded the Medal for Magical Merit."

Tom smiled freely now. "That's right."

"Merlin, but that must have been in the 1940's. For Godric's-sake, how long have you been stuck in there?"

"Since 1945," he answered glumly. "I was seventeen when it happened."

"When what happened?"

"You know why I received the Medal for Magical Merit?"

She shook her head.

"Back then, Muggleborns had to sit at the back of the Hogwarts Express. They were frequently targeted and teased at the school, often to the point of getting hurt. I'm sad to report many of these tormentors were from my own house."

Hermione nodded, fire coming alive in her eyes. "I can empathize; I'm a Muggleborn myself and have been a victim of such teasing."

He gave her an apologetic look before continuing. "I did stand against such bullying, whenever I could, of course. Only, this did not gain me favor with the rest of my house. I was preparing evidence to bring to Headmaster Dippet. My findings would most surely have resulted in expulsion of some of my house mates. Students that came from noble, Pureblood families."

Riveted by his story and horrified by the trials Tom had seemed to endure, she forgot about her reservations, stepping closer as she listened on.

"Many in my house practiced the Dark Arts. I suppose it was bound to happen. One day, my housemates cornered me. I was outnumbered by the six of them. They performed a ritual of sorts and I found myself stuck in this mirror; where I've been for the last fifty-two years."

"Oh Tom," she cried. "That's horrible! Didn't the teachers try to look for you?"

"They tried, I'm sure they made a valiant effort. I don't blame them, who could know about this room? But I've just stayed here, day after day, year after year, and no one has found me until you."

"Merlin, I'm so sorry."

"I've thirsted, but been deprived water. I've craved sustenance, but gone without. I long for human contact, but have stayed cold and alone in this mirror that is my prison."

Forgetting any and all reservations, Hermione rushed up to the mirror, placing her hand on the cold surface as he did the same. In that moment, it became her purpose to help the kind, handsome boy, man, in the mirror. "Tom, how can I help you. Is there a way for me to get you out of the mirror?"

Hermione thought she saw a flicker of triumph pass through his dark gaze but shook herself—she likely just imagined it.

"You've already done part of it; you've read the inscription."

"Oh, really? Is it really that easy?"

He swallowed audibly and her eyes dropped to his adam's apple that bobbed distractedly. She shook herself. Now was not the time to lose focus over something as superficial as good looks.

"Unfortunately," he gave her an apologetic smile, "-I have been bound with dark magic, blood magic to be precise. It will take magic of the same caliber to free me."

"Blood magic," she sputtered. "I...I don't know anything about that." Hermione bit her lip in concentration, absently twirling her ponytail, all the while feeling the heat of his gaze, before a thought struck her. "I know, I can get Headmaster Dumbledore—he'll be able to get you out!"

"No!"

Hermione recoiled at the severity of his reproach. All at once, fear began to resurface inside her.

For a moment, his gorgeous features had contorted and twisted in a cruel sort of way. Immediately, a mask of apology fell into place. "I'm sorry," he pleaded. "I didn't mean to scare you. It's only that Professor Dumbledore, well I suppose he is Headmaster now, he was never a fan of mine."

"Really? I've never known him to...not _like_ anyone."

"I was an orphan, you see. It was very hard on Muggles during that time, given the war. Hogwarts was the first place I ever felt safe. I longed to stay through the holidays but he made me return to the orphanage every Christmas and every Summer, even though he knew the deplorable situation he was returning me to. Despite how hard I tried to prove myself to the Professors, to the magical community, he never quite warmed up to me." She nodded in understanding, already forgetting her earlier fear. Tom spoke so passionately—it was oddly endearing—she was hard pressed to not be caught up in the galvanizing way in which he spoke. "Dumbledore will have a lot of questions about my imprisonment. I'd very much like the opportunity to speak to him...in person."

"I understand your reluctance Tom, but...I don't know what to do. I've never tried anything like this before."

"I can tell you. It's not so very hard, just a bit...taxing on your magic is all."

Hermione hesitated. She was taken aback by the next thing he said.

"Those Gryffindor boys must be a right stupid lot, at least that much hasn't changed."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you courting anyone?"

Hermione felt her heartbeat speed up at the blatantly personal question. "I don't see why-," she sputtered. Feeling embarrassed, she blurted out, "I had a boyfriend in Fourth Year, he was a Hufflepuff."

A flicker of annoyance passed over his face, but again, she wasn't quite sure if she saw it or not.

"Like I said, the Gryffindor boys, they aren't very bright. If they were, they'd be spending their free time pursuing you. Not mindless silly girls with the magical capability of hags."

For the second time that night, Hermione forgot to breathe.

She was entranced by the boy in the mirror—Head Boy—with great things to say about her. Since when did boys ever show interest in her? She was appalled when she realized she actually voiced the question aloud.

"That's the problem," Tom said silkily. "You're surrounded by _boys._ Boys that are intimidated by your superior intellect and magical capability. They don't appreciate it, because they can't compete with you. You could woo them easily enough, given the right instruction, but you would grow tired of them. I on the other hand, _would entertain you_."

Hermione gulped at the blatant challenge, never having encountered someone that dared her so. She wondered idly if he was merely toying with her, but he seemed so sincere. And even if he was, shouldn't she help him regardless? Her initial gut instinct had told her to get a teacher, but that was silly— _this was her purpose._

Coming to a decision, another thought itched at her brain but she quickly discarded it, already making up her mind. "What must I do?"

"On that table behind you, there's a blade. It's hilt is encrusted with sapphires, do you see it?"

She gulped but turned in the direction of the table, walking over to see the dagger she had noticed earlier. _Tom has placed a lot of trust in me, I'm must help him. It won't do for me to look like a scared little ninny._ Resolved and clutching the blade, she walked back towards the mirror, stopping just short of it. She tipped her head back, for the first time _really_ noticing the way he towered over her.

"Now what?"

"To break the binds of the mirror, blood is required."

Hermione nodded. Her fingers shaky but she only gripped the blade tighter. She brought it up with false confidence before slicing it harshly into the palm of her hand. Despite her best efforts, she winced at the incredible stinging pain that resulted from it. She heard a clatter on the floor below and realized she had dropped the dagger.

Gathering her courage, she looked up and faced Tom. His eyes glittered with a dark intensity that astounded her. The desire to step away from him was palpable, blood pounded in her ears and in her throbbing hand, but she stood firm.

"Now you need to smear the blood over the inscription." She held herself taut as she stepped forward, pressing herself against the mirror once more to reach high above and wipe her bleeding hand over the symbols of the Runes. _That must have been dried blood that I wiped off before._ She stepped back again, looking at him inquisitively.

"Draw your wand, lovely." Did she imagine the huskiness of his tone? She wasn't sure, but her heart was doing funny things as it beat wildly in her chest. "Raise it up high. Recite the words three times and enunciate them clearly."

Setting her jaw lest her courage flee her, she did as she was bid.

"Eihwaz nied rad algiz kenaz." Abruptly, a scorching burgundy light sprouted out from the tip of her wand.

"Eihwaz nied rad algiz kenaz." The light increased in power, it became difficult to hold it steadily raised as she continued her chant.

"Eihwaz nied rad algiz kenaz!" As she completed the last word, the light intensified tenfold and shattered the mirror into thousands of pieces, simultaneously throwing her back against the edge of the table. Her head made a clanking noise when it hit the hard surface and she watched as the pieces of glass dissolved right before her eyes before they could tear at her flesh. She felt blood began to accumulate at the base of her skull where her head pounded from the rough contact.

Through the haze of pain, she looked up to see Tom stepping out of the now empty frame of the mirror. He stepped tentatively towards her, eyes glued on her, before something caught his eye and he stooped low to pick up... _her wand_!

She didn't know if it was the knock in the head that had done it, but all of a sudden, she remembered the thought that had been troubling her. That he was _able_ , that he seemed to _know_ , about the Gryffindor boys, their taste in witches…

Looking up, she saw him raise her wand, testing it. Hermione felt insurmountable power culminate in the room as he seemed to test it, flex it. She saw it as much as felt it—his magic. It crackled menacingly around the room, raw and incredible.

He was a powerful wizard.

A dark wizard.

It was no accident he had been trapped in that mirror, _he was put there_.

Protective defense born out of necessity.

And she had freed him.

"You're a Legilimens."

He lowered _her wand_ and fixed his attention back on Hermione. He advanced on her slowly.

"Oh gods, what have I done."

"Nothing you won't be rewarded for, lovely."

Hermione swallowed audibly as she backed into the table, her brain feeling dizzy and slightly fogged. Before long, he was kneeling down next to her, reaching for her. She flinched away but he grasped her hand anyway.

" _Vulvair Mortis_ ," he murmured and she watched in fascination as the wound in her hand healed to non existence. He placed his hands on her head almost tenderly as he moved it just so. This time, he didn't even say the spell as he raised the wand towards her wound. She felt the power of it just the same as the wound closed up and her head cleared, somewhat.

"The story, about your crusade for Muggleborns," tears stung her eyes at the betrayal. What a fool she was! "None of it was true, you probably despise Muggleborns," she spat.

"Mudbloods have their uses, take you for example. Power trumps blood status by my standards, _Hermione_."

During their whole exchange, she'd never divulged her name, yet he knew, of course he knew!

"It was probably Headmaster Dumbledore that placed you in there in the first place."

"Like I said, clever girl. Clever-," his gaze roved down her body and back up to her face. "And quite the beauty."

Hermione gulped. Hadn't he been merely manipulating her when he'd said all that? "I already told you, _he is Headmaster_. You can't avoid him."

"A fact easily remedied, I assure you. This time, it'll be I that catches him by surprise."

"If you're insinuating, you can get rid of Albus Dumbledore—the greatest wizard of all time, and then simply waltz right into the school, you're not as smart as I pegged you for."

"Dumbledore is old, not immortal. It's really nothing for you to worry about. Indeed, you have more pressing matters that concern you.".

Hermione attempted to get up hastily but she yelped as Tom pinned her in place. She could hardly breathe as she found herself face to face with powerful wizard and trapped in his fierce gaze.

She took a steadying breath, attempting to calm herself but her voice still came out shrilly. "If you're trying to threaten me-."

"I've been inside your head, Hermione Granger. Such untapped power, such raw potential. I can mentor you, I'd like to, as a reward for coming to my aid." He looked at her meaningfully and now that she was aware of his unusual power of Legilimency, she attempted to close off her mind so he wouldn't see the affect he was having on her. "I think you will find I can be very accommodating to those loyal to me. I'm sure I can adjust my plans to find a place for you. Such competence should not be squandered."

"Goodness but you do go on." The smirk on his face fell suddenly and annoyance graced his features. It was her turn to smirk at the tiny victory, but it didn't last long as she noticed a dark look fall over him. _What is he up to now?_

"Back to what I said earlier," the wheels turned in Hermione's head as she tried to recall what he could possibly be referring to. "I've been deprived of human contact for too long. My need is quite, rapacious."

She didn't have time to react before his lips came crashing down on hers. His kiss was a far cry from the experience she had garnished with Cedric. Tom's kiss was hot and demanding. She felt like a timid virgin in the face of his expertise and skill. He nipped and sucked on her lips, licking at the seam of her mouth.

In the end, she had no choice but to respond.

When she kissed him back, he made a noise of approval and the sound shot straight to her core. He pulled her closer and her soft curves seemed to melt against his hot muscles. He explored her mouth and Hermione absently noticed the way he tasted sweet, like honey. She broke the kiss needing a gasp of air. Undeterred, Tom merely began nuzzling her neck, finding where she was most sensitive and attacking the area mercilessly with his mouth.

She gasped when she felt the telltale sign of his arousal brush against her abdomen. _Oh Merlin, his need really is ravenous._ She knew she needed to do something, and escape wasn't an option. Perhaps her participation was enough to assure him she wouldn't stand in his way, then she could warn a teacher. Surely, a simple kiss was all she would need to convince him. _A simple kiss, this is hardly simple!_ She remembered the way, earlier that night, she had jealously watched Lavender and Ron go at it. How she had longed for such passion in her life. _Well it seems I'm getting my wish..._

Her brain felt slightly muddled as she breathed in the scent of him, cloves and sandalwood, something definitely masculine. Her mind was fogged, as if drugged. She could hardly think clearly as she tried desperately to hold onto her responsibilities and the tasks ahead. With a valiant effort, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

His lips broke contact with her collarbone as he looked at her questioningly.

"I just thought," she said hoarsely. "Well, there will be a lot to do. Perhaps there isn't time-."

"Nonsense, there's plenty of time." His tone barred no argument and she blanched; her concern becoming palpable.

"Now I think I had promised you I could entertain you. It's only fair I make good on that promise."

"Really, you don't have to, I mean, there's so much to do already-."

" _Obscuro_."

Hermione yelped as the blindfold he'd conjured wrapped itself around her eyes, obscuring her vision. Her hands instantly went to the blindfold but they snapped up clasped above her head as she was thrown to her back. _This isn't happening,_ she thought in a panic. As scared as she should be, her fright was overruled by mounting excitement. Truthfully, she had always wanted to be dominated like this. For her lover to have so much passion for her, that he could not resist taking her hard and fast. _But not with a wild and crazed dark wizard! Even if he is handsome and powerful._

" _Diffindo_." She gasped at the sound of the seam of her jeans ripping. Her body was hot all over and a knot was forming in her stomach.

"What are you-." Tom silenced her as he leaned to kiss her once more, hard and possessive. Hermione forgot about her discomfort and reservations. She longed to break the invisible bindings on her wrists and twine her fingers through his hair once more. She wanted to rip the wretched blindfold off of her face, but was only able to squirm beneath him.

She cried out when his mouth left hers, enraged at the absence of his lips. When he wrenched her thighs apart, she trembled at the prospect of what he would do next. She knew what he would find, damp, blue cotton knickers but she was beyond caring to be properly mortified.

"What are you waiting for," she snapped, all the while testing the insufferable bindings of her wrists. "Take me already."

"Tsk, tsk, such impatience." His voice was sultry and sent shivers down her spine. "Such impertinence. I can assure you, when I take you—you'll be begging for it."

She felt his lips connect with the soft skin of her thigh and she bit back a moan. He was teasing her. She was beyond ready, completely forgetting about the tasks ahead as her world was zoning in on him, and the decadent sensations he was drawing from her.

When she felt her knickers being ripped off, she held her breath, expecting him to finally take her. It was his tongue she felt next, melting into her hot and ready core. Her eyes rolled back as she arched off the hard floor. He pinned her hips in place and she wished he would just bring his hands a bit higher to touch her aching breasts.

When he added a finger to probe her throbbing entrance, she moaned freely as conscious thought quickly fled her. He was keeping her painfully on the edge, his skillful tongue circling her clit at a slow, leisurely pace but never quite making contact. She felt reckless and unhinged as she threatened him, ordered him to stop teasing her so. He merely chuckled darkly in response and the sound of it reverberated through her, only adding to the mounting pleasure.

Her threats turned to begging and she could hardly recognize her voice as she plead with him. He seemed to enjoy taunting her, but when she realized her hands had fallen to her breasts and she had somehow broke his bindings, she hastily dragged a hand down to thread into his hair and press him more forcefully into her. She was almost there and he was edging her towards nirvana when abruptly, his head snapped up.

In the place of his tongue and fingers she felt him at her entrance and braced herself for the intrusion, holding her body taut. She remembered she had the freedom of her hands and reached up to remove the blindfold just in time to see him thrust into her to the hilt.

For a moment, his carefully guarded face was free of masks and he looked... _rapturous_. The feel of him was heavenly, and she clenched him tightly. They stayed like that for a moment, before he opened his eyes and leveled his gaze at her.

"You broke my spell, I'm impressed."

Hermione did not have time to preen under his approval as he began _moving_. The sensation was incredible and brought her indescribable relief. She felt on the verge of delirium when she forced her body to move with his. Heat had pooled low in her abdomen and it didn't take long before she was... _spiraling, jerking, rocketing_ , as the waves of her euphoria hit her. Her vision splintered around her and she was only vaguely aware of the way he snapped his hips erratically, on the verge of claiming his own pleasure, as he pounded into her. She convulsed around him, squeezing him impossibly tight as wave after wave of pulsing desire overtook her.

She saw stars and was only vaguely aware of rolling to her side and letting the darkness take her. It seemed only a few moments had passed when she was shaken roughly. Annoyed beyond belief, she snapped her eyes open to find Tom staring imperiously down at her.

"You've had enough rest for now, come on. There is much to do."

"You've got to be kidding me, I don't feel like doing anything right now," she whined as she attempted to burrow down on her side once more.

He didn't let her, pulling her haphazardly to her feet. She stood precariously as he handed her mended jeans. "I realize you're not used to such... _skillfulness_ in the bedroom. But there's much to do and now that I've claimed you-."

She was aghast. "Claimed me?"

His eyes narrowed imperceptibly at the interruption. "Well obviously you are mine."

"Obviously," she scoffed.

"As I was saying, there will be time for resting later."

Hermione whirled on him. She may be wandless and very much defenseless against the competent wizard, but her temper flared regardless. "You may think, with your _archaic views_ , you can just waltz right in here and claim me as if I'm some property, and that I'll stand idly by why you kill whoever is in your way, whether they are my friends or not, but you have another thing coming! I'm nothing if not _loyal_ , and if you'd like me to _voluntarily_ lend some of that loyalty to you, you'd better be prepared to work with me."

Tom crossed his arms over his chest in an amused gesture. "Oh?"

"Yes. Now there is a lot of things that's changed in the Wizarding world since you've been around. I can be a resourceful ally to have, but you'd better treat me respectfully."

"I might consider it," he offered graciously.

Hermione struggled to come off as graceful and serious as she could in her undressed and ruffled state but she was surprised just the same at his willingness to work for her. "Good. Now about Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore is not up for debate. I suggest you save your arguments for those that matter to you more than him. There can't be a world with Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle."

She swallowed down her retort now seeing bartering for her Headmaster's life would be a lost cause. "Fine, but you'd better clue me in on what your plans will be."

"Absent meddlesome Headmasters?"

"Exactly." She pulled on her jeans and longed for her wand so she could at least try to untangle her wild hair.

"Well, Hermione. Ever heard of world domination?"

She gulped as she looked up to meet his unreadable eyes. He smirked at her apparent shock. _Merlin, but this wizard will keep me on my toes. Still, better to work with him than let him become my foe, at least for now._

"Alright, Tom. You have my attention."

Tom's smirk grew as he felt mildly victorious. The little witch was his, even if she didn't realize it yet.


End file.
